Opposite Sides of the Mirror
by JediTears09
Summary: What if Hermione, not Harry, discovered Draco crying in the bathroom? A short one-shot that has developed into an in-progress full-blown fanfic. Some humor and cuteness. Rated T for mild language, violence, angsty sad Draco, etc. Suggest? Comment?
1. Lost Reflections

I edited this chapter, so don't get all discombobulated, it needed to be in third person to make any sense with following chapters…

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Chapter One: Lost Reflections

Hermione was meandering down the various dimly-lit corridors, singing quietly to herself and trailing her fingers along the rough stone walls as she normally did, despite the fact that this action left dark smudges on her fingers. Filch didn't seem to think the walls of the back-hallways needed cleaning, and no one was brave or stupid enough to tell him any differently. She arched her back and let out a sigh, glad to be free of the many pounds of books that typically burdened her back, which were now stacked neatly on top of my trunk.

As Hermione rounded the corner, she was greeted by the smell and feel of the dampness that permeated the air surrounding the seldom-used bathrooms in which Moaning Myrtle had taken up residence. She seemed to be in a particularly fine mood, sniffling and wailing quietly to herself. Perhaps it was because her voice was echoing oddly off the damp walls, but it sounded deeper, sadder, more desperate than usual. Tugging nervously on a lock of hair, Hermione edged around the bathroom door, trying to escape notice. There was Myrtle alright, hovering near a broken sink where-

Her foot stopped in midair and her breath caught in her throat. There, gripping the dilapidated sink with shaking hands, white-blonde hair spilling down to cover his eyes, was Draco Malfoy.

Between ragged breaths, the same pain-stricken voice that she had heard in the hallway echoed about the small, dark room, inaudible words and phrases that jumbled together into a moan of sorrow. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his lament still vibrating throughout the bathroom. His head raised a fraction of an inch, causing the curtain of tousled platinum locks to part. In the mirror their eyes met.

Time seemed to stall, picking daisies or drinking coffee, whatever it was time did when it wasn't running our lives. In that second, steely grey met copper brown, ice met warmth, sorrow met shock. Draco Malfoy, the bad-boy Slytherin, the hard-core seeker, the cool tormentor of first years and muggle-borns alike, was crying.

Not an, "Oh dear, that blast-ended skrewt seems to have burned a hole in my trousers," sort of crying. It was much, much worse. Tears spilled from his eyes, tracing wet paths down his porcelain cheeks, and slid down the bridge of his sharply defined nose and onto the loosened tie that hung around his neck, creating a dark polka-dot pattern on the Slytherin house colors.

That long second ended with Malfoy registering the fact that she was standing in the doorway gawking at him. Time must have had a lousy break, because it came back in an irritable mood. Malfoy stood bolt upright, shoulders tense and heaving slightly with each breath he took. The cracked mirror split his face in two, distorting his already livid expression and making it all the more fearsome.

He spun around, his loose robes swirling about his feet. The face in the mirror vanished and reappeared moving very quickly in Hermione's direction. She couldn't move, so she stood there, paralyzed, while he covered the distance between them in three long strides. She could feel her heart rate speed up with every inch he moved, until it was beating a violent tattoo against her ribcage, vaguely reminisce of a beat to a Weird Sisters' song.

He was less than a foot from her, but he didn't stop. Instead, in a fluid movement, his right hand shot out and closed firmly around her throat, pinning her against the wall. He had drawn his wand with his left hand, and it flared an angry red, reflecting the fury of its master. His face was inches from Hermione's, and the wandlight illuminated it in the dark, making the teardrops that still clung to his lashes sparkle like rubies.

"What are you looking at?" His voice was low and menacing, and his hand was tight enough around her neck to make breathing slightly more difficult.

She should have screamed.

She should have pulled out her wand and hexed him.

She should have kicked him where the sun doesn't shine.

But all she did was stand there, pressed against the cold stone wall, staring into his eyes.

They were darker than normal, accented by the circles that hung under then, and roiling like storm clouds on the brink of a torrential downpour. Somewhere, deep inside them, a small part of the person she had first seen weeping into a broken sink remained, terrified, broken, alone.

But then, the shard was blasted into a thousand pieces as his grip tightened and he shook Hermione, hard enough to lift her feet off the ground.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" His voice was so sharp she could have cut herself on it, and he accented each word by contracting the hand that was still gripping her throat and moving even closer so that the last word echoed in her ear.

The spell his stormy eyes had cast on Hermione was broken and she pushed him away. His grip relaxed and she felt cold air rush into her lungs again. she slid out from the small gap between the cold wall and the even colder Draco Malfoy; he made no move to stop her. She staggered slightly, lightheaded, and ran the brief distance between the bathroom doorway and adjoining corridor.

However, something made her pause and glance back for a moment. He was still standing in the same position she had left him, leaning against the wall with one arm and shaking, whether from the aftermath of the fury or the onset of more tears, she didn't know. He was staring intensely at the spot where he had pinned her against the wall, eyes glazed over slightly, lost to the world.

Hermione took a deep breath and almost turned back, but the sharp pain in her throat drowned out any compassion she might have been feeling for him.

So, Hermione stole one last glance in his direction and walked around the corner defiantly, rubbing her throat and trying to ignore the fact that his sad grey eyes had pierced her soul, and that with every step she took his lingering scent wafted up from her robes, causing her heart to miss a beat.


	2. Sickle For Your Thoughts

Well, you guys asked for it, so here you have it. A second chapter. Enjoy, and please comment!

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Chapter 2: Sickle For Your Thoughts

Draco could feel her gaze on him. He couldn't help himself, and turned ever so slightly, giving him a clear view of the table she shared with Neville Longbottom.

She was underlining something in Longbottom's potions book with her finger and had a look of exasperation on her face, as though trying to explain to him something that was ridiculously simple, and yet impossible for him to grasp.

She glanced up, and he quickly directed his gaze elsewhere, not wanting a repeat of the mirror incident.

When he deemed it safe to look back, she seemed to have given up on Neville and was now trying desperately to rescue their ruined potion.

As she leaned forward to add a few lacewing flies to the bubbling cauldron, her hair flopped over into her face. She brushed it back impatiently, momentarily exposing her neck.

Large, purpling bruises mottled the skin. Draco's right hand twitched involuntarily, sending a carefully measured vial of beetle eyes scattering across the floor. They fell like little hailstones, or tiny blackened tears.

He muttered a few spells, repairing the glass tube and restoring most of the beetle eyes.

He tried his best to ignore Lavender Brown's giggles and the derisive snorts of unrepressed laughter that came from Potter and the Weasel, but despite his efforts he felt hot blood tinge his cheeks a humiliating tone of pink.

Professor Snape stormed over to their side of the room and barked, "Ten points from Gryffindor!" He said nothing to Draco, but cast him a rather disdainful look, as though mocking him for being so bloody clumsy.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he began chopping up a root of ginger with more ferocity than was needed.

He could still feel her heart beating under his fingers, still feel her eyes boring into him.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Sure, he may have thrown a few punches, or sent a hex or two flying in the direction of a Gryffindor with a particularly severe case of the holier-than-thou's, but nothing like this.

Despite all his talk, he really wasn't a violent person. He knew from experience that a few well-selected words could devastate someone far worse than a beating ever could.

The cold voice of his father sneered at him. "What does it matter? The mudblood deserves worse."

His conscience told him otherwise. What had he done?

Draco relived the events of the precious day in his mind.

He had fled the Great Hall, full of light and warmth and happy, chattering people, and found himself in the chilly dark of the bathrooms where only Moaning Myrtle's gloomy presence could be felt.

There - and even now he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, loathe to admit it - he had spent the better part of an hour crying.

Men didn't cry.

Especially Slytherin men.

Especially Slytherin men who belonged to the pure-blood, prestigious Malfoy family.

But someone had found this pure-blood son of Slytherin sobbing into a filthy sink in a dimly lit lavatory.

He heard a noise and lifted his head, expecting a ghost, or perhaps Mrs. Norris.

Instead, his gaze met Hermione Granger's, one of the very last people he wanted to see him in such a state.

He panicked.

He started walking towards her, expecting her to flee and leave him to his misery; she didn't move.

Not knowing what else to do, he had grabbed her by the throat, meaning only to scare her a little.

Only there was no fear in her eyes.

There was curiosity, and a great deal of pity. He did not like this. Not at all.

She had seen him weak and powerless. He would have been alright if she had laughed at him. But she pitied him. This he could not allow.

So, he let his anger, or perhaps his fear, get the best of him.

What right did she have to disturb his solace, when he had every reason to be where he was? Who did she think she was, to-

"Oh, bloody hell," he cursed. Lost in his thoughts, he had mistaken his index finger for a ginger root.

He grimaced and squeezed the maimed digit, watching a thick drop of blood trickle down, like a drop of wine, or a teardr- "Merlin," he thought, "does everything have to mock me?"

He was so ashamed of those simple drops of water. Liquid weakness, that's all they were.

After a whispered spell, he observed the skin weave itself back together and dropped his head into his hands.

What was wrong with him?

But that was a stupid question. He already knew exactly what was wrong with him. He also knew there was nothing he could do about it. He was doomed.

A small electric buzz ran up his arm as his watch informed him it was time to trudge off to another class with McGonagall and her endless preoccupation with turning something into something entirely different that it clearly wasn't meant to be.

Granger brushed past him and unbidden, a mixed feeling of guilt and anger washed over him.

With a deep sigh, he pushed himself up and made his way towards the dungeon door.

He doubted anyone would miss him anyway.


	3. Nightmares, Awake and Asleep

Hey guys! Terribly sorry for the wait between chapters, writers block and all. Not that there are hoards of readers staring at the story wishing it to update or anything, but ah well. So, here it is. Nothing too yippee, setting up for a hopefully soon-coming fourth chapter. Enjoy and comment! =D

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Chapter 3: Nightmares, Awake and Asleep

He spun around, his loose robes swirling about his feet. The face in the mirror vanished and reappeared moving very quickly in Hermione's direction. She couldn't move, so she stood there, paralyzed, while he covered the distance between them in three long strides-

Hermione sat bolt upright, smacking her head on the bunk above her.

Uttering a swear that would have made Ron proud, she flopped back onto her pillow, her heart still racing, and covered her eyes with the back of her hand.

This did not help in the least. His eyes still gazed out at her from the darkness, mournful and broken.

* * *

Something was poking Hermione, hard, on the shoulder. She swatted at it, but the blasted thing wouldn't stop. "What?!?"

"Erm… Hermione? I'm hungry…"

She sighed, refusing to open her eyes quite yet, and mumbled, "Ronald, did you have to wake me up to tell me this?"

"Well… I can't eat with you using me for a pillow."

Hermione finally did open her eyes, and realized that she did indeed have her head buried in Ron's shoulder.

Quickly righting herself, she smoothed her hair, which didn't help much, and blushed down at her pancakes.

Caught napping on Ronald. How dignified.

Rubbing her eyes, she mentally hexed Malfoy and all his bloody problems, which evidently had now become hers. Those wonderful dreams in which she relived that oh-so-fun evening in the bathroom had been disrupting her sleep for the last three days. It had gotten so bad she was on the verge of brewing up a dreamless sleep potion.

At least there were no classes today, so she wouldn't wake up to find herself snoozing in her cauldron.

Excusing herself from the table, she left the boys to go to their Quidditch practice. She herself made a quick stop, or as quick a trek up to the seventh floor could be, to pick up a few books and then headed for her spot on the castle grounds.

"Her spot" was a giant willow, not the Whomping Willow, of course, that had grown to create sort of an alcove next to the lake. It was perfect for a nice, secluded day of studying.

Hermione settled herself in a niche between two roots and cracked open her ancient runes book, loving the scent of the paper as it combined with the smells the light breeze carried. The grass. The flowers growing on the opposite bank. The -

Hermione wrinkled her nose. There was a distinct smell of expensive cologne infiltrating her nice, natural mix of scents.

It was a sweet, spicy musk that reminded her of something she couldn't quite think of at the moment. Perhaps cinnamon. It wouldn't have been a bad smell, except that it announced the presence of someone else in her little hollow.

Sure enough, the crackle of leaves reached her ears, and a pair of black Quidditch boots appeared between the shifting willow branches. Black with green laces.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake…" Hermione muttered. As a Gryffindor, and the best friend of both the seeker and keeper of the team that had beaten Slytherin in so many matches, being caught in a secluded corner of the grounds by someone from the Slytherin team was probably not among the best of ideas.

Angrily abandoning her book, she clumsily hauled herself up into the higher branches. "Of all the… Ugh."

And so, balanced uncomfortably in a y-shaped branch, Hermione waited for the intruder to either pass by or go away.

Unfortunately, he had no such intentions, and proceeded to not only enter the alcove, but to sit directly beneath her, in HER spot.

And on top of all this, this Slytherin-clad someone just had to be Draco Malfoy. The ferret himself. And he looked like he wasn't going to budge for a long while.


	4. Snitches and Solitude

Huzzah, a new chapter already! Okay, so I meant to do a Draco and Hermione meeting in this chapter, but I sort of got to rambling on about Draco and a chapter break was in order. So, Draco might seem a bit mushy and emotional in this one, but remember kids, he's under a lot of pressure. In case I haven't mentioned this before, it's set in the Half-Blood Prince book. Which probably explains a few things. Well, enjoy, and comment! 3

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Chapter 4: Snitches and Solitude

The crisp morning air whipped locks of golden hair about Draco's head as he soared above the Quidditch pitch. A light mist still hovered over the grounds, and gray clouds parted to make way for him.

He took a deep breath; flying always cleared his head and gave him the time to think. Mulling about while keeping an eye out for anything that looked like the snitch wasn't exactly the most exciting of tasks, especially during a practice.

So, this was where he did his pondering, flying high above the world. Somehow, everything seemed smaller up here. He felt alive.

Something large whooshed past Draco's head as he stared out at the glassy lake. He started and dropped a couple of feet to avoid the bludger's second assault. Bored with him, it soared away to try and bludgeon some other hapless player. As he watched it circle the middle goal hoop, he noticed a fleck of gold near the ground below.

Instinctively, he dove. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and made his heart race as he sped towards the ground and reached out. Exhilarated, a whoop of joy escaped him as his fingers closed around the tiny golden bauble.

Smiling to himself, Draco located the captain and flew over to him, holding up the snitch as he drew near. Urquhart nodded in approval and, after quite a bit of bellowing, gathered the rest of the team.

"Alright you lot, I think we're done for today. Crabbe, Goyle, will you mangy mutts pay attention? I almost got knocked clean off my broom. Those bats are meant to hit the bludgers with, but they can be used on other things too, if you catch my drift. And Bletchley, see if you can't do anything about that left hoop, you've been drifting a bit to the right and leaving it exposed. Draco, nice work today, but will you get some rest? You look terrible! Honestly, I can't have my seeker falling off his broom in the middle of a match because he's fallen asleep. Get some sleeping draught from Madame Pomfrey if you have to. The match against Gryffindor is next week, and losing to those bloody idiots is not an option. And mark my words, if there isn't a Slytherin victory, practices will be doubled."

A collective groan came from the circle of players, but Urquhart had already started off in the direction of the showers. Draco liked him; he was a good captain, and he knew what he was doing. He really didn't mind the extra practices the way the rest of the team did. They were a nice reprieve from his life, and he found himself straying to the Quidditch pitch even when there was no scheduled practice. He would spend hours just circling Hogwarts' many towers. He liked to skim the lake, flying so low that he could trail his fingers in the water.

But most of all, he loved to fly over the Forbidden Forest. The ocean of trees below whispered gently to him, and on some days the thestrals would venture out to join him. The strange horse-like beasts had an eerie beauty about them, and their melancholy eyes told him he was not alone in his struggles.

Lately he had started slipping some meat into his pockets for them during meals. The herd always looked gaunt, but the previous week he had noticed a young thestral whose ribs jutted out of her sides at unnatural angles, which worried him. Also unnatural. He felt a sort of connection with the sad, emaciated creature. He always chuckled to himself as she snatched the scraps in midair, sometimes coming close enough for him to pat her thin neck.

He began to call her Bellatrix. Not after his aunt, but for the small star-shaped splotch of white on her right shoulder: highly uncharacteristic of the solid, midnight black thestrals.

When he was really down and depressed, he would fly farther into the forest and land in the thestrals' clearing. There he would spend a few solitary hours, with only the thestrals for company. They mostly stayed on the other side of the clearing from him, but Bellatrix often ventured closer and allowed him to touch her.

He told her everything. All his troubles, his fears, his hopes, his dreams. She was the only living creature that knew the real Draco Malfoy. The only one he confided anything in. She always listened, and would never betray him. Sometimes, when it all became too much and he collapsed crying under an oak tree, she would nuzzle his hand and he would bury his head in her ebony mane.

His "friends," or whatever one wished to call them, would probably laugh at him. "Oh yes, that Malfoy seems as though he's lost his nerve! Talking to thestrals… It's sad, really. The dumb beasts can't even understand him."

However silly, mad, pathetic, or anything else it may have seemed, Bellatrix was still one of the small comforts in Draco's life. And those were few and far between, so best not to fret over small trifles like insanity.

"Draco!"

A loud shout drew him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Goyle jogging over to him, a very flat-footed and noisy jog. He sighed. "What?"

"You said you wanted Crabbe and me to be lookouts again after practice."

"Oh, right, I remember…" He'd forgotten. "Erm, perhaps tomorrow Goyle."

Not looking terribly disappointed, Goyle shrugged his massive shoulders and trotted off. Thundered off would be more accurate, he sighed to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose; he had a headache again. Wonderful. He had been to the hospital wing so often lately for headaches, Quidditch, insomnia and the like, that Madame Pomfrey had threatened to send him to St. Mungo's for a checkup. He shuddered and rubbed his forearm at the thought of the disastrous events such a mere checkup would entail.

No, the hospital wing was out of the question. He would just have to wait it out the old-fashioned way. And what better place to do so than "his spot."


	5. Mental and Physical Balancing Acts

Much apologizing for the long wait and short chapter, but senior year is just killing my creativity… Please enjoy this little scene though, and comment! Love, JediTears09

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Chapter 5: Mental and Physical Balancing Acts

As Draco entered the small clearing, his headache faded and a sense of peace came over him. He strolled over to the trunk of the great tree and settled himself in the puddle of shadows its huge branches created.

He sighed; he felt guilty for abandoning his task, and he would probably pay for his procrastination later, but today was for him. For the sake of his sanity, he needed today.

Perhaps later he would go visit Bella, but for now, he thought, stretching, a nap was in order. However, when he leaned back against the tree, something rather sharp prodded him in the back.

Grumbling, he reached around, expecting to find a rock, or perhaps a bowtruckle, angry at being sat upon. But instead, his hand found a leather-bound book. An intricate symbol twisted itself over the smooth cover; the smaller, gold print beneath it read "Ancient Runes."

Draco had been tempted to take that class third year, but his father said it was "utterly unbecoming to a Malfoy; translating is servant's work," and so he had taken care of magical creatures instead.

He slowly opened the book and began to page through. A huge array of runes met his eyes, none of which made any sense to him whatsoever. After a minute his eyes began to hurt, so he paged faster.

A particularly large section of pages flopped over, sending a gust of air into his face, mussing his hair and making him sneeze.

The book smelled strongly of dust, and rather library-ish, if it was possible to smell like a library. He might have imagined it, but the light scent of vanilla was mingled with the book's antiquity.

Curious.

Reaching the end of the book, he noticed that someone had written something on the inside cover, and brought the book closer to his face. Tiny, neat ink letters spelled out, "Hermione J. Granger."

Merlin! That girl was determined to haunt his steps forever, with her pity and her vanilla perfume.

A "crack!" echoed throughout the clearing as he angrily snapped the book shut.

* * *

Hermione had developed a pain in her shoulder where a large, twisted knot was digging into her skin. She carefully raised herself off the tree limb, making a human bridge between the branches, and was at the point of letting go with one hand to reposition herself when a resounding "crack!" surprised her.

When one is precariously perched in a tree, supported by only three limbs, and a loud noise is issued from directly below, one tends to lose one's footing.

She let out a shriek as she fell, brown, black, red and gold tumbling through the air and landing right on top of a very startled Draco Malfoy.


	6. A Helping Hand?

Well, well, well, it seems the lazy bum of a writer has finally finished a chapter… it's not incredibly long, but I do hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and expect a follow-up chapter very soon! As always, thank-you for reading and comments are loved!

*Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and the story of course belongs to yours truly.

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Chapter 6: A Helping Hand?

Thump.

Had Draco not been very sleepy, he probably would have jumped, yelled, hexed her, or all of the above. As it was, he just stared, brown and grey eyes meeting once again.

It wasn't until an image of their last meeting interrupted the moment that he abruptly stood, sending Hermione sprawling on the soft grass.

He started for the castle, taking large steps, until a stifled sob came from behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

Being on the receiving end of the great fall, Draco hadn't considered the physical complications of falling out of a large tree, and so when he turned slowly about, he was surprised to find Hermione still on the ground, foot bent at an odd angle and crying quietly.

Fear and guilt crawled into Draco's heart, squeezing it and making it hard for him to breath.

This was the second time she had been physically hurt because of him, not even taking into consideration whatever unseen scars he had left on her over the years. He would help this time, he thought determinedly, he would fix what he had done.

Without a word he returned, scooped her up, and began walking.

* * *

Hermione had watched Draco go, but then deflected her attention to her wounded foot and had not noticed his return until he had picked her up, at which point she shrieked, "Malfoy! What in Merlin's name are you doing, you stinking ferret, PUT ME DOWN!"

But of course, he did not.

After a few moments of brooding silence, she demanded, "Where are you going? The castle is that way! Or did you plan on dumping me in the Forbidden Forest?"

Draco jerked his head towards a spot just short of the dark trees. "You're friendly with the gamekeeper, are you not? I merely assumed you would not want to be seen being carried to the hospital wing by a, what was it? Ah, 'stinking ferret.'"

He wasn't wrong, but his consideration kept Hermione quiet for the next minute.

Upon reaching the oak door of the small hut, with a surprising amount of gentleness, he placed her down on the worn mat, minding her injured foot, and rapped his pale knuckles against the doorframe three times.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

As soon as Hagrid's voice was heard through the door, "Alrigh', alrigh', m' comin'," he turned to Hermione, made an odd jerking movement half-way between a curt nod and a mocking bow, spun on his heel and left.

His deep green cloak billowed behind him in the light breeze, catching on the dew that still clung to the grass.


	7. A Note of Discord

Well, I promised, so here it is, chapter 7! It's a bit longer than normal, as requested. It might be a while before the next chapter though, I've got college applications driving me crazy right now… Well, please enjoy chapter 7, and please comment!

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Chapter 7: A Note of Discord

Hermione was still gazing absently at Draco's retreating form when the door pulled sharply open and Hagrid's bushy head emerged from inside.

" 'Ermione? Wha're yeh doin' on th' ground?"

Hermione felt the color rise in her cheeks as she was scooped up, for the second time that day, and set down on Hagrid's oversized and overstuffed couch.

As he moved to shut the door, Hagrid caught sight of the pale blonde and green figure making its way back to the castle and turned back to Hermione.

"Who's tha'? Malfoy? Wha' was he doin' out 'ere?"

Looking worried, he sat down in the armchair next to the hearth. "Wha' 'appened to yer foot? I swear if 'e did sumthin' t' you…"

"No!" Hermione sat up quickly and tried to stand up, but Hagrid pushed her firmly back down with one massive hand.

Flustered, she said again, "No."

When Hagrid still looked doubtful, she continued. "Really Hagrid, I just slipped and hurt my ankle down by the Black Lake, and Malfoy just happened to be passing by. He was actually being helpful…"

As an afterthought, she muttered that she could have fixed it herself in a few seconds.

Then, remembering the fact that she was indeed a witch and quite capable of mending her foot by herself, she pulled her wand out of her robe, pointed it at her ankle and whispered, "_medicorpo_." The muscles tensed, then relaxed, and the throbbing in her foot vanished.

She gingerly got up and thanked a still-concerned Hagrid for his help, then began making her way back to the castle.

* * *

When Hermione had returned to the castle, she found herself mentally and physically exhausted, and in need of a nap. Ron tried to waylay her in the common room, brandishing a roll of parchment with only a few smudged words on it and saying something about "essay," "Snape," and "dirty foul git," but she just waved him off and continued up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

She opened the door and at first thought it to be deserted, but when she stepped inside she saw a small house-elf placing a package on her bed. Upon seeing Hermione, she squeaked and with a loud "CRACK!" disapparated before Hermione could thank her.

Making a mental note to start selling S.P.E.W. badges again, she sighed and picked up the parcel. It was probably mum sending boxes of dental floss again, she thought. It was wrapped neatly in crisp brown parchment, and addressed in small, neat letters. Actually, it looked like the green ink had just dried.

Hermione tugged at the silken black ribbon that held it together, and pulled the paper off to reveal… her ancient runes book! In all the confusion of today, she had forgotten it down by the lake. But who…?

She moved to return the book to its rightful place on top of her trunk, and a small slip of parchment fell from the pages. In the same neat letters in dark green ink that seemed to shimmer in the dim light, it read, "You really ought to be more careful."

There was no signature, except a fancy little "S. F." in the corner. S.F.? Who did she know with those initials? Seamus Finnigan? Probably not. Unless… No, it couldn't be.

"Stinking ferret," Hermione muttered, and then without warning she burst out into uncontrollable giggles. Perhaps he had a sense of humor after all.

She tucked the paper into the inside pocket of her robes. *** (see footnote)

* * *

Two days passed, and Hermione saw nothing of Draco Malfoy, not even during classes. He had been missing Quidditch practices too, or so she had gathered from Urquhart's rather vocal complaints about not having his seeker show up to practice.

Actually, no one seemed to have seen hide nor hair of Malfoy. He wasn't at meals, he hadn't been in the hospital wing when Slughorn sent Hermione to give Madame Pomfrey a new batch of bone regrowth potion, and she didn't see him anywhere on the Marauder's Map that she "borrowed" from Harry's bag while he was in the boys' lavatory.

Finally, on the third day after the tree incident, Hermione walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts to find a very ill-looking Draco Malfoy slumped over in his seat. He was incredibly pale, even for him, and alarmingly dark rings circled his half-closed eyes.

He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness the whole class, and once Snape walloped him over the head with a copy of "Confronting the Faceless" when he answered, "What is the best way to defeat a Kelpie?" with a soft, grunting snore.

Hermione wouldn't admit it, not even to herself, but she had been rather worried about him, the rotten ferret.

* * *

That evening Hermione was walking down to the Quidditch pitch to meet Harry and Ron after their practice was over, when angry shouting redirected her steps towards the old broom shed.

Two red-clothed people seemed to have cornered one green-clothed person, and were proceeding to scream their heads off. When she got closer, she recognized one of the voices.

Uh-oh.

Hermione began pelting towards the scene, arriving just as Harry grabbed Draco and threw him against the rough wood wall of the shed.

She screamed, "Harry, no!" as he jabbed the point of his wand into Draco's throat.

Ron turned around, startled by her sudden appearance, but Harry did not move. He was staring at Draco with such an intense hatred that she half expected Draco to burst into flames on the spot.

After a half-second of petrified deliberation, she threw the entirety of her small weight into Harry's shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

He was already trying to get back up again when Hermione shrieked, "What do you think you're doing Harry?!? Have you lost your mind?"

Dodging back and forth, trying to get around Hermione, he growled, "He's going to lose more than that."

Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulders, forcing him to hold still and look at her. "What's gotten into you?"

Eyes darting to Draco, he said, "We went to visit Hagrid today. He said that that…" he struggled to find an adequate word, "…filth dumped you on his doorstep, and that you were hurt."

Hermione said firmly, "Yes, I sprained my ankle and Malfoy was kind enough to bring me to Hagrid's." Harry shook his head jerkingly, the tendons standing out on his neck. "Then we remembered that you never told us something."

"What?"

He grabbed her Gryffindor-striped scarf and roughly pulled it, revealing the fading yellowed bruises. His voice was down to a whisper now. "This. He did this to you, didn't he? Didn't he?"

Hermione sputtered, "It- it was an accident, he didn't mean to, he-" "Didn't mean to?" Ron said in a high-pitched, incredulous voice, "He nearly strangled you, Hermione."

"No, that wasn't what-"

Evidently Harry had had enough of talking, because he suddenly pushed past Hermione and lunged at Draco.

* * *

Harry's Quidditch-gloved fist connected with Malfoy's jaw, hard. This scum, this _thing_ had physically hurt Hermione. He had completely given himself over to his anger, and was punching every inch of green robes and pale flesh he could.

Hermione was screaming and trying to pull him away, Ron was looking around nervously, presumably checking for teachers, and Malfoy was puzzlingly unresponsive. He wasn't fighting back, at all. He was just standing there, supported by the wall, looking half-dead and bleeding.

Harry was beating Malfoy to a pulp, and still it wasn't enough. Six years of furious hatred towards the pale boy in front of him was pulsing through his veins and drove all second thoughts out of his head.

He pulled his wand out of his robes, ignoring Hermione's renewed shrieks. He waved it wildly at Malfoy's chest and screamed the first spell that came to his lips.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***What's this, a deleted/alternate scene?

I wasn't sure about this part, sooo I just added it as a footnote so if you completely despise it you can just pretend it's not there. Here it is! :

'There was no signature, but when she went to crumple it up, strangely, it started singing off-key. She flipped it over and found that there was something written on the other side. It was a moving drawing. A string-haired stick figure was sitting in a tree, singing loudly to itself. Suddenly, it fell, and landed on top of another stick figure. There was a large poof of ink-smoke, and the second stick figure promptly turned into a ferret which began to squeak. The drawing began to repeat itself.

"Stinking ferret," Hermione thought, and then without warning she burst out into uncontrollable giggles. Tears streaming down her face, she watched the little stick figure play again between snorts of laughter. It really was a clever charm, and the little ferret was rather adorable…

She tapped the parchment with her wand, whispered "_silencio,"_ and tucked the paper into the inside pocket of her robes.'

...End scene. I thought it was a bit un-Draco-ish, but it was a really cute scene in my head, so I thought I'd put it in.


	8. To Save A Life

So, the prodigal author returns… I apologize for the long wait. I felt simply horrible for leaving poor Draco bleeding on the ground for so long. But, when one is stuck on a bus for fourteen hours while traveling from Pennsylvania to South Carolina on choir tour, one needs something to do. So, without further ado, I present to you the eighth chapter.

* * *

Chapter 8: To Save A Life

Silence filled the chill air. Even the shouts from the stadium and the night sounds of the Forbidden Forest seemed to fade.

Then, all at once, time and sound were heaved together again.

"Oh bloody _hell_ Harry, what did you go and do that for?!" from Ron.

A scream from Hermione, stifled by one shaking hand.

Unreadable silence from Harry.

Ragged, labored breathing from Draco.

A sickly sweet smell from the blood pooling in the freshly mown grass.

They watched in horror as the earth sucked up the blood greedily, leeching the life out of its originator.

It wasn't until Draco's eyelids flickered shut and the solitary sound of his breathing began to slow that the reverie was broken.

Hermione yelled shrilly, "Accio broom!" The nearest broom, Harry's Firebolt, jumped from where it was leaning against the shed and flew to her waiting hand.

"Hermione, you don't know how to fly-" Ron began to say, but one icy look from her stopped him.

She hauled the unconscious Draco onto the broom, and it shakily rose into the air, aware of her lack of experience and confidence.

But there wasn't time for misgivings. Draco's breathing was becoming shallower, and Hermione knew she didn't have the medical training to heal him herself. This was their only option. If it failed, if she wasn't quick enough, if they fell…

With a snarl, she cleared her head, leapt on the broom, and urged it forward.

The broom swerved violently out of control. Hermione clutched Draco to her, his head lolling on her shoulder. He was barely breathing, and she could feel blood soaking the front of her shirt.

With the realization that he was slipping away, her will overpowered the broom's, and it flew straight.

As they sped through the darkness towards the castle, she whispered, "Oh God, please. Please. Save him."

The light of the hospital wing's windows came into view, and she pushed the broom to go faster.

There wasn't time to find a door or open window, so, shielding Draco with her arms as best she could, she flew straight into the centermost window.

Shattered glass flew in every direction, cutting her arms and face. A fraction of a second later, they collided roughly with a large cabinet filled with potions.

As something sticky, either spilled potion or blood, dripped down the side of Hermione's head, she blacked out.

When she came to a minute later, Madame Pomfrey, pale as the Bloody Baron, was trying to lift her to her feet.

"Good God, child, what happened?"

Hermione shook her head and pushed her hand away. The room seemed to be pulsing, dark waves threatening to envelope her. She mumbled, "Not me… Him… You have to… _I_ have to… Save… Save him…" Then everything faded to black.


	9. Revelations

Aha! You weren't expecting another chapter for a few months, right? Wrong! I hope you enjoy this… this is the first time any sort of romance is entering the picture. I know, it doesn't really count since one of them is unconscious, but hey, it's a start!

* * *

Chapter 9: Revelations

She awoke hours later to find herself lying on a scratchy bed. The cuts on her face and arms had been bandaged with magic. But, judging by the still sharp pain, Madame Pomfrey had had to stitch up the wound on her head the old-fashioned way.

She looked around. Ron was stretched out, seated on the edge of a hard-backed chair with his face buried in the sheets on the left side of her bed, long arms hanging close to the floor. A muffled snore told her that he was out cold.

Harry was sitting in another chair at the foot of her bed, head in hands, fingers tangled in his midnight hair. She couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep.

Two beds to her right, a still form lay. Draco was still unconscious. His bloody robes lay in tatters on the floor next to the bed. Clean white cloth strips wrapped around his bare chest.

He was breathing. Bless Merlin's bloody bunions, he was breathing.

With a sideways glance at the two motionless boys, Hermione slipped off the bed and padded across the cold stone floor.

She caught sight of herself in a wall-mirror, and silently thanked Madame Pomfrey for getting the bloodstains off her shirt.

Reaching her destination on tiptoe, she settled herself on the chair next to the bed.

Lying there he looked so… helpless.

Hermione leaned over and softly took his hand in hers.

It was cool, but not the deathly cold it had been the night before. His hand was calloused and strong, no doubt from years of Quidditch. She frowned at his fingertips- apparently he had a nail-biting problem. His left forearm was bandaged as well, although she didn't know why. It had probably been cut by the glass from the window.

Her gaze returned to his face. Asleep, it had lost all anger and concern - he looked peaceful, innocent. Like this, it was easy to forgive him for the last six years of endless insults.

Hermione froze as his eyes flickered open, but a brief second later he had passed out again.

She gently stroked the back of his hand. She didn't know why she was doing this. It was Draco Malfoy, of al people.

A flashback to the previous night answered her question. Seeing him lying, bleeding on the ground, feeling the life leaving him as they flew through the night - just the memory of it made her stomach clench and almost brought tears to her eyes.

She didn't know when, or how, but she had begun to care about him. And thinking of the day he had carried her to Hagrid's, maybe…

A small smile warmed her face.

Draco mumbled something in his sleep.

Sharp green eyes watched from behind tense fingers.


	10. Waking Up Dead

Yay, another chapter! I know, I know, still no Dramione stuff… but hey, there's dialogue! I hope you enjoy chapter 10, and please review!

* * *

Chapter 10: Waking Up Dead

"So this is dying. It hurts," thought Draco.

A small voice chimed in. _But not as much as living does._

He shrugged inwardly. The voice had a point.

Well, it hurts like hell.

_Which is where you're going, so you better get used to it._

Ah, yes. The inevitable truth of the matter. St. Peter would take one look at Draco and laugh him all the way down to his fate.

_Well, at least someone turned up for your sendoff._

What?

_You know she hasn't left. And you know, you never told her how sorry you were._

Draco really hated that voice.

* * *

Draco woke clutching his left arm; a sharp pain shooting up his forearm had dragged him out of unconsciousness. All the window shades had been drawn, and it was very dark in the hospital wing.

His head snapped to the right as he sensed movement in the far corner of the room. Another shock of pain coursed up his arm.

_Oh God, no… _

He pushed himself up and reached desperately for his wand on the bedside table, only to fall back into the pillows as agony ripped across his chest.

Panting, he tried to drag himself out of the bed, clutching the cold metal of the bed frame with one hand and scrabbling for his wand with the other. His arm was pulsing in dull pain, his mind screaming at him to move, his heart thumping against his ribs, yet he was still unable to reach his wand.

A whisper, "Muffliato."

A silencing spell. No one would hear it. It would be quick, quiet, and as painful as possible.

And he couldn't defend himself because he couldn't reach his blasted wand!

Bloody wound. Bloody Potter. Bloody hell, he didn't want to die right now.

"If you have ripped your stitches, Madame Pomfrey will be most displeased."

Draco froze at the sound of the cool voice, and soon after its owner melted out of the darkness.

Severus Snape walked smoothly over to the bed. He pulled out his wand and Draco tried to get up again, but Snape pushed him roughly back down. He pointed it at Draco's chest and muttered a healing spell. An uncomfortable feeling spread across the freshly opened wound as the skin tried to weave itself back together. It failed and the muggle-style stitches were still the only thing holding him together, but at least the pain subsided a little.

Still tense, and not letting his guard down, Draco said, "Is it safe to talk here?"

Snape gave a curt nod.

With a deep and slightly painful breath, Draco asked, "Have you been to see him? What did he say?"

Snape looked at him. Took too long to answer.

Draco snapped, "Well, out with it! Has… has the Order been given?"

The older man looked annoyed. "Calm yourself. No. It was suggested, but I was able to convince them that you divulged nothing. I told them you were nearing a breakthrough. He is impatient. I hope, for your sake, that it was not a lie."

Draco waved aside his admonitions with a shaking hand. "And my parents?" he asked nervously.

"They are fine. Your mother nearly accosted me when she heard something had happened to you, but they are both alive and unharmed."

Draco relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe, for now.

Snape gave him a pointed look. "I do not believe I will be able to intercede on your behalf again. The Dark Lord is not forgiving; I fear your next mistake will be your last."

Draco felt his insides twinge, but forced his face to remain impassive.

Silence followed, until Snape tapped his left arm with two pale fingers. "Madame Pomfrey called me as soon as you arrived, and I was able to bandage your arm before she saw. The Granger girl, on the other hand… You should hope she did not, or you will have _two_ deaths to plan. You would do well to keep it covered as long as you remain here."

With a final hard look at Draco, Snape was gone into the darkness, with a swirl of robes and a "clack" from the hospital wing doors.

Draco lay awake for a few minutes, listening to the steady breathing of the other unknown inhabitants of the room, who had no idea what had just transpired, then forced thought from his head and gave himself over to exhausted sleep.


	11. His Greatest Fears Realized

Aha! You thought it was all over, completely given up on the story, didn't you? But you thought wrong! Haha, I was reading over all the amazingly kind reviews you all left me over the course of the story, and I felt like a huuuge nerfherder for not writing more. And, it gets better! It seems I have a four page/week journal requirement for my ENGL050 Creative Writing class, and my professor doesn't care what we write… So, if I can keep up with the plotline, that should mean a new chapter every week! I know, "Yeah, yeah, quit your rambling you lazy author and tell us about Draco!" Soo, without any more yammering from me, here is the eleventh chapter! Please forgive me for the four month wait, and reviews are loved! Happy reading!

* * *

Chapter Eleven: His Greatest Fears Realized

The silence was terrible.

Draco heaved a sigh and leaned his hip against the ornate oak of the drawing room table.

He was alone in the enormous Malfoy Manor, waiting. Something seemed wrong, but he couldn't seem to figure out what.

Draco jumped as a thump issued from the large black cabinet standing in the center of the room.

Taking slow steps, he approached it; it seemed to tower over him forebodingly.

As Draco reached for the brass handle, another thump caused him to snatch his hand back.

Suddenly, the cabinet burst open. Draco stumbled backwards as a tall bald man with almost transparent skin stepped out.

"My- My Lord!" Draco stammered. "It is an honor to have you here in my family's home. Why-"

"Be silent," Voldemort spat.

Draco's teeth clicked together as he quickly shut his mouth.

"You failed me, Draco."

"No…" Fear washed over Draco in a wave that left him weak. He clutched at the table behind him, using it to support himself. "No! I just need more time!"

"It was a simple enough task. I have given you ample time. You are weak, and pathetic. I have no use for you."

Voldemort pulled his wand from his robes, and Draco closed his eyes and bowed his head, waiting for the end to come.

But it wasn't going to be that easy. Draco heard the monster's footsteps as he approached, then felt the point of his wand touch his chest.

With a silent spell, Draco was thrown back onto the table, feet still glued uselessly to the floor. His heart hammered against his ribcage, and his breath came in short gasps, as though his body knew what was coming as well as his mind did.

This was what people like him got. He deserved to die like this, alone and afraid.

"Crucio!"

The pain was more than he had ever thought was possible. It blinded him, choked him, made him deaf except to his own silent screams.

And then, just when he thought his heart would burst from the agony, it was over.

His whole body still pulsed with pain, and even his bones seemed to ache, but he was able to stand shakily.

Draco didn't know how long the torture had lasted, but there were now two more people in the room, cloaked by the shadow of the cabinet.

"Come now, Draco," Voldemort said. His smile reminded Draco of Cerberus, the dog who guarded the gates of Hell. "Aren't you going to greet your parents?"

Draco's eyes snapped to the two shadows, who emerged into the dim light. There was no mistaking the Malfoys' white-blonde hair.

What was going on?

Voldemort's smile widened a little, his pointed teeth obvious. "Mummy and Daddy are going to be the first to try out your vanishing cabinet, isn't that wonderful?"

Draco stopped breathing. The cabinet was still very broken; he hadn't been able to repair it fully… Anyone who stepped inside it would die.

As Draco started to run forward to stop them, a flash of pain shot up his left arm. He yanked up his sleeve and watched in horror as the tattoo writhed and twisted, and the black ink snake came alive. It spread across his body, curling around all his limbs, leaving him paralyzed. Terrified, Draco looked to his parents.

Narcissa blew her son a kiss as she pulled open the large door, and put one foot inside.

"No!" Draco shouted, panic clawing at his heart. "Don't! I couldn't fix it, it'll kill you!"

Lucius sneered at Draco as he pushed his wife roughly into the cabinet. "I always knew you were worthless." And with that, he stepped inside, and pulled the door shut with an echoing bang.

"NOOOO!"

Draco hit the stone floor hard, skin slick with sweat, agony searing across his chest, dark blood leaking through his stitches.

He stared cross-eyed at the wrought iron leg standing two inches from the tip of his nose. That eyesore definitely didn't belong in the Malfoy's parlor…

After a few seconds, Draco willed himself to sit up, and found himself on the floor of the Hospital Wing.

It had all been a dream.

Cursing his overactive unconscious mind, he clamored back into the bed.

Of course, it all could have happened. Might happen. _Would_ happen if he didn't succeed. The Dark Lord was becoming impatient.

There was still a gaping wound across his chest- Madame Pomfrey said he would have to stay in the Hospital Wing at least another two weeks.

Idly scratching at his left forearm, Draco mused that even if he survived Voldemort's malice and Potter's random murderous attacks, he wondered if he could survive himself and his own idiotic decisions that had led him to this place.

. . .

The next few days passed uneventfully, for the most part. Hermione was released from the hospital wing. As she left, flanked by a joyous Harry and Ron, she glanced back to see Draco sleeping fitfully. He had woken her up several times during her stay, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she wondered what kind of terrible nightmares plagued the boy that could make him scream like that.

* * *

Okay, just a note about this… I know, it's still not much plot, I wanted to establish Draco's fears. (I promise lots of plot in the next chapter! Really!) Oh, and in case you're feeling a bit slow today and haven't figured this out… like in the real story, Draco is a Death Eater, and Voldemort has charged him with helping him break into Hogwarts using the vanishing cabinets. So that's why he was crying in the bathroom, and he has that odd fixation with his left arm, haha. Thank-you for reading, and don't be afraid to click that "Review" button! :D


	12. Bloody Starlight

I feel like this chapter ends awkwardly, but I'm getting behind on this and felt the need to post what I had. Plot! Yes! See, I promised. The next chapter is going to have actual Hermione – Draco interaction. So, please enjoy chapter 12!

P.S., randomness, this chapter puts Opposite Sides of the Mirror over the 10,000 word mark, and the last chapter saw the 10,000th hit on this story! Thank-you so much for reading this, it makes me happy that people actually like it, haha!

* * *

Chapter 12: Bloody Starlight

It was Sunday afternoon. Sunlight flooded the quiet hospital wing, drenching everything in a warm glow. There was but one inhabitant, and he was quiet as well.

Suddenly, a vase of flowers sitting on the bedside table burst into flames. Draco watched dully as the bright blooms were consumed. When they were burned wholly, he waved his wand lazily, and the flames vanished. Another wave, and small green buds began to sprout from the blackened stalks. As they bloomed into blue irises, he went to light them again, but stopped himself.

God, he was going insane in this place. The nightmares continued, and he was forced to lie there, day and night, with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

There was a noise outside the door, and Draco quickly dropped his head onto the pillow, feigning sleep. As the door swung open, he heard voices he recognized, and half-opened one eye. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson entered, but they obviously weren't there to visit Draco. Blaise was half supporting, half carrying Pansy, who was clutching at a cut on her arm and wailing.

Draco rolled his eyes behind his eyelids. Pansy was so overdramatic.

Madame Pomfrey, having heard Pansy, ("How could she not?" Draco thought) came hurrying into the room.

"Goodness gracious, child, quiet yourself! What happened?"

As Pansy seemed unable to produce a coherent answer, she turned to Blaise.

"We were in Care of Magical Creatures class, and Ha-… _Professor_ Hagrid," Blaise said with a slight tinge of sarcasm, then continued, "decided we were going to go feed the Thestrals this class. When we got to the clearing, they were all going berserk. Apparently the centaurs were feeling moody or superstitious or something, and shot down one of the beasts. Anyway…"

Blaise continued to tell how Pansy was scratched by one of the frantic animal's bony wings, but Draco wasn't listening. He sat up, painfully, and felt the stitches in his chest threatening to break. He ignored them and stood up shakily.

Madame Pomfrey, having healed Pansy's "injury" with a flick of her wand and shooed them out of the room, turned around and saw Draco limping across the floor.

"Mister Malfoy! Lie back down right now! You haven't healed yet, you'll kill yourself!"

Draco waved her away, and, trying to force his voice into its usual arrogant drawl, said, "I'll do what I please. Do you _know_ who my father is? If you want to keep your cozy little job here at Hogwarts, I suggest you let me go."

Madame Pomfrey still tried to protest, but Draco pushed past her. He managed to stumble out into the hall and halfway down the first flight of stairs before he had to stop. Leaning against the wall, he winced as he noticed blood trickling down his chest and dripping slowly onto the stone floor.

"Damn it," he groaned, punching the hard stone of the wall. He couldn't stop, he had to know.

Over the course of the next hour he made his way down to the entrance hall. People stared, gasped, pointed, some even laughed as they saw Draco, no shoes or shirt, dripping blood, stumbling down the hallways. He only fell once, but the impact caused blood to spatter across the flagstones.

As soon as Draco reached the grounds, he pulled out his wand and gasped, "Accio broom!" A shoddy old Cleansweep trailed over from the broom shed, and Draco threw himself onto it. It flew lazily towards the Forbidden Forest as the sun set over the Black Lake, casting lengthy shadows over everything. Draco's feet dragged across the grass, and he fought to stay conscious.

It was dark by the time he reached the tree line. As he flew past Hagrid's garden, a black shape became visible among the great orange pumpkins.

Draco rolled off the still-moving broomstick, and crawled over to the wounded Thestral. A white patch of hair stained bloody red confirmed his fears.

. . .

Hermione sighed contentedly and shifted the enormous ceramic mug in her hands, letting its warmth spread through her fingertips. A confortable mix of tea, smoke, and dog scented the room.

"S' been too long since yeh came to see me, you three. I start'd to think yeh did'n like me cooking anymore."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione chuckled awkwardly. Hagrid's cooking was the least thing they loved about him – a few too many rock cakes and stoat sandwiches had made sure of that.

Looking to change the subject, Harry cleared his throat and said, "So Hagrid, we heard one of the Thestrals was hurt this morning?"

Hagrid nodded sadly. "I jus don' know what them centaurs were thinkin'. Poor thing. She's out in the garden now, hurt pretty bad." He gestured a massive hand out the window. "I been watching 'er day an' night- wha' in blazes?" A darkness came over Hagrid's face. "Someone's out there."

Before anyone could say anything, Hagrid grabbed the pink umbrella in which his broken wand was concealed, threw open the door, and stormed outside.

The three of them looked at each other, concerned. Fang lifted his head and let out a single deep bark, and then went back to drooling on Harry's shoe. Suddenly, Hagrid's voice echoed across the grounds. "Oy! Wha' the hell d'you think yer doin'? Get away from 'er!"

A pause.

"Good God… Malfoy, wha'… what 'appened? What did yeh do to 'er, yer covered in blood!"

Harry and Ron stood up, faces livid, and moved towards the door. Hermione barred their way. She glared at Harry. "What do you think you're going to do, hm? Haven't you done enough to him? Merlin's sake, Harry, you nearly killed him."

Guilt twisted in Harry's stomach, and he sat back down, hard. Ron made a disgusted face, then followed suit.

Assured that the two would not follow, Hermione tore out of the small house and out into the garden.

Hagrid was carrying Draco in his arms. Both the boy and the Thestral lying on the ground were covered in blood, although whose she didn't know.

* * *

Do you deserve a special extra for reading this far? I think so! Fan art! It goes with chapter 6, A Helping Hand? Enjoy!

Okay, the site is being a brat and not letting me post the hyperlink... but, if you go on my DeviantArt profile, JediTears09, there's a drawing called "A Helping Hand?".

Or... let's try... jeditears09. deviantart .com/ gallery/#/ d2zhcbk ...if you take out the spaces in the link, it should work. Haha, sorry for the trouble, but it is a cute drawing!

This drawing is done by me… please excuse the mediocre talent. I might spruce it up a little on the computer later, and if I do, I'll be sure to post it. Thanks again for reading!


	13. Healing Hands

_A/N: I am horrifically sorry for how long this took. I honestly got sidetracked by homework and other fanfictions. I _can_ tell you, though, that I have already written the ending for this story. It's only a matter of getting there now! Happy reading!_

_Oh, and I'm trying my best to keep Draco in character. If it gets too mushy and fluffy for him, please tell me, and I'll be sure to write Draco more cantankerously in the future!_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Thirteen: Healing Hands

. . .

A steady flow of healing charms streamed from Hermione's mouth as she waved her wand back and forth over Draco's bleeding chest. He was lying on the rough wooden bench outside Hagrid's house, unconscious.

He woke with a start, and tried to sit up, but Hermione pushed him firmly back down.

"Please, just relax."

Draco glared at her, but held still. "Is Bella okay?"

"Bella?"

His cheeks flushed. "The stupid Thestral."

"Oh, yes…" Hermione looked at him curiously. "The wound wasn't that deep- it looked a lot worse than it actually was. I put a few charms on it, and she should be perfectly fine in a week or so."

Looking relieved, Draco closed his eyes again.

Hagrid went back inside to chat with Harry and Ron, but Hermione stayed.

Eventually, she said cautiously, "Malfoy?"

Draco cracked an eye to look at her imperiously.

"If you don't mind me asking, why is this Thestral so important to you?"

Reasoning it out in his head, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to tell her. She had a sort of motherly air about her, and she would probably understand his feelings about Bella. He pulled himself into a sitting position, making room for her on the bench beside him.

"I don't know, she's just a Thestral I started taking care of a while ago. You know, sneaking food to. I talk to her. I guess she's kind of like a pet guidance counselor. She gives me good advice. Don't you dare tell me I'm crazy," he said sharply.

"No, no. I think that's perfectly normal, and… honestly, really sweet," she finished, blushing.

"Oh."

Sweet. _I don't think anyone's ever called me _that_ before…_

Silence.

"I don't want to turn this into a heart-to-heart talk or anything, but… are you okay? You sort of seem… well, out of it, lately. Not your usual, eh…" She struggled to find an appropriate word. "Aggressive self."

Draco's hand immediately jumped to his forearm, but he covered by pretending to scratch his elbow.

"It's been a stressful year."

"Oh… well, if you need someone to talk to. I don't know why you wouldn't just talk to Crabbe or Goyle or Pansy…" She was blabbering. "But I don't want you to feel like no one cares about you."

Draco stared at her blankly. "So… you're saying _you_ care about me then?"

"No!" She blushed deeper. "Not no, I… I don't _not_ care about you. I certainly don't want anything _horrible_ to happen to you, or anything. I mean, I know I punched you in the face that one time, but you were really asking for it, and…"

Draco clumsily placed a hand on top of hers. "It's alright. I… I'm loathe to admit it, but I don't hate you quite as much as I used to."

Hermione looked down at her hand, then up at Draco again. She smiled. "That's good to know, then."

He'd never noticed before, but her smile was rather stunning.

He quickly removed his hand, and stuck it under his knee.

"Do you want me to take you back up to the castle? Bella is going to be fine, you don't have to stay here all night."

By way of answer, Draco stood up. She followed suit, and they started to walk towards the shadowy castle.

"Wait, shouldn't you go back to Potter and Weasley? Won't they be mad if you just leave?"

"I don't need their permission to do anything. They can find their own way back to the castle," Hermione said loftily.

Draco smirked. It sounded like she was still mad Harry for attacking him. For some reason, the thought pleased him.

They walked up to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey looked aghast when she saw him. He was in for a lot of scolding, that was for sure.

"Miss Granger," she said, throwing a pair of pajamas at Draco and forcing him into the changing room. "Thank-you for bring him back alive."

"Of course, Madame Pomfrey. It was no trouble."

Draco emerged, now wearing the blood-free pajamas.

_Stop talking about me like I'm a lost puppy._

Draco downed the blood restorative potion Madame Pomfrey thrust into his hand. It was bitter, and made his ears burn.

"Well," Hermione said. "Good night, Malfoy. Try not to kill yourself, okay?"

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the covers over his head, but when Madame Pomfrey turned the lights out and he fell asleep, a smile still lingered on his face.


	14. Lessons Learned

_A/N: Okay, so I've realized Draco was definitely over-angsty in the earlier chapters. Draco will now be returning to his usual bad-boy self. Thank-you, that is all._

_Afterthought A/N: Actually… maybe not _all_ bad-boy. I'm having fun writing cutesy scenes, so… He can be both._

_Double afterthought A/N: PLEASE, tell me if Draco seems OOC at all. I want to get it right!_

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Chapter Fourteen: Lessons Learned

. . .

Finally, Madam Pomfrey determined that he was healthy enough, and Draco was allowed to leave the hospital wing for good. Which was lucky, because he was a few more days of utter boredom away from setting the whole place on fire.

It was Wednesday, and the first class of the day was Transfiguration. A few moments after he walked through the door, Professor McGonagall handed him a list of things he had missed and would need to make up over the weekend. The parchment was almost a foot long. Draco was about to protest, but she shooed him away with her wand, and began shuffling through papers on her desk.

Draco was so absorbed in reading the assignments on the list that he didn't watch where he was going and walked straight into someone. Draco snarled, "Watch where you're-", and then realized it was Hermione. "Oh… sorry." She blushed and returned to her conversation with Harry, who glared at him.

Draco flipped him off behind Hermione's back, and dropped into the first available chair he saw.

Having been absent from class for a few weeks, he had absolutely no idea what McGonagall was talking about, and was thoroughly shocked when she turned Neville's desk into a pygmy goat with a swirling wave of her wand.

Draco stepped around Neville, who was trying to wrestle his book bag away from the hungry goat, and approached McGonagall's desk.

"Professor, I'm completely lost. Transfiguration was never my best subject, and…" He looked pleadingly at her.

"I am not unsympathetic, Mr. Malfoy. It isn't as though you were skipping class; you had quite a legitimate excuse to be absent. However, I am extremely busy right now, and I don't have the time to tutor you. Perhaps you could ask another student? Miss Granger has already mastered next week's skills, so perhaps she will consent to help you catch up."

Hermione, who had been packing her bag, dropped her book on the floor. "Oh, y-yes professor, I can do that, if you'd like."

"Yes, Miss Granger, I think it would be best. Now move along. The second-years have written me some abysmal essays on Gamp's Law."

"Gramp's what?"

"Oh dear… Miss Granger, you really do have your work cut out for you."

Hermione nodded fervently. The two went out into the hall. Harry and Ron were standing at the end of the corridor, waiting for Hermione.

Draco cleared his throat. "So, I'll see you at eight in the library then?"

"I can't tonight. I promised Ron I would help him write his potions essay…"

"Oh." Draco's voice failed to hide his disappointment.

"But I'm free tomorrow night! Is that alright?"

"Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow then."

. . .

Professor McGonagall smiled slyly to herself as she set to work on the second years' essays.

. . .

"What did Malfoy want?"

Ron practically attacked her as soon as they turned the corner.

"Nothing, really. Professor McGonagall asked me to tutor him, since he's been absent lately."

"And you said no, of course."

Silence.

"What?" Ron yelped. "You're actually going to _help_ that scumbag?"

"Well, you two are to blame for him missing classes, so it's only fair. Besides, Professor McGonagall asked me, I couldn't very well say no."

"Definitely could have…" Ron muttered.

Harry spoke for the first time. "I don't like this, Hermione. He can't be trusted."

Hermione shrugged. "It's just transfiguration lessons. I can take care of myself."

Ron made a noise of disgust, but said nothing else.

. . .

"This is boring," Draco whined.

Hermione sighed. "It's only twenty after eight, and you were ten minutes late."

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the heavy textbook closer. "So… if I wave my wand like this, and say _Feraverto_, it's supposed to turn into a bird?"

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth, but couldn't suppress a giggle.

"What, Granger? Don't think I'm stupid, this stuff is just bloody difficult."

"No, it's not that…"

"Then what? Spit it out!"

"Well… When you think hard like that, your nose gets all scrunched up make sort of this… face."

She crinkled her nose and bit the tip of her tongue, concentrating intensely on a spot on the table.

"I do not."

"Yes, I'm afraid you do."

"I'd know if I was making a ridiculous face like that."

"Oh, alright then. Of course you weren't."

"Don't patronize me, Granger," Draco huffed.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy." Her voice still sounded amused.

"You think it's funny that I don't understand transfiguration?"

"A little."

"It's ridiculous! If you wanted a bird, you shouldn't have gone and bought a water goblet. And how is this practical? Who's going to be in the middle of a duel…"

At this point, he leapt out of his chair and pointed his wand at an imaginary foe.

"And whip out a water goblet and say, 'Aha! Now I have you! _Feraverto!_'" He waved his wand wildly, and a few crimson sparks drifted onto the table.

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, and slipped off the chair onto the floor, where Draco could still hear her snorts of laughter coming from under the table.

"What on EARTH is going on over here?" Madam Pince strode over, looking particularly furious. "Miss Granger? I expected more of you! If you can't contain yourself, then you and Mr. Malfoy will have to find somewhere else to cavort."

As she stalked off, Hermione emerged from under the table, her face glowing red and streaked with tears.

"Quite the troublemaker, aren't we, Granger?"

"You…" She gasped as she crawled back onto her chair, still shaking with laughter. "You are a bad influence."

"Me? I was behaving myself."

"You were acting ridiculous! Was I _not _supposed to laugh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I take no responsibility for your delinquent behavior."

"Oh, you… ah. Never mind. Here, you were doing it wrong anyway. It's like this…" She waved her wand slowly in a little counterclockwise square. "See? It's really quite easy."

Not too keen on continuing to study, Draco leaned across the table. "Are you implying I'm too simpleminded to grasp even this concept?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps. Are you?"

"Well then, if it's like that…" Draco snatched her wand out of her hand.

Hermione sighed and rested her chin in her cupped hand. "Give it back, Malfoy."

Draco took a step backwards.

She gave him a withering look.

Not deterred in the least, he simply grinned impishly at her.

Rolling her eyes, she got up from the chair and went to retrieve her wand. The already tall boy held it over his head, making it impossible for her to reach.

"Malfoy, really… if you don't pass your N.E.W.T.s, you'll have only yourself to blame."

"Ever the scholar. Do you ever do anything besides study?" He was careful to keep her wand just out of her grasp.

"Yes."

"Really. Like what?"

"I go to quidditch matches, and I visit Hagrid sometimes, and I knit."

"Knit?"

"Knitting is making things like scarves and hats out of string, using two needles… Surely you've heard of knitting before?"

Draco shook his head. "You really make clothes out of string?"

"Yes. It's not very hard. Besides, there's a simple charm that speeds it up nicely. Honestly, you wizards really are useless."

"Hm. Regardless, that's all you do? Sounds pretty boring to me."

"In my spare time, I also tutor thankless imbeciles."

Draco pulled a face. "Ouch. That really hurt, you know."

"You're a terrible actor, Malfoy. Now please, give me back my wand?"

"I'm not stopping you from taking it."

Hermione sighed again. Deciding to play along, she grabbed his left arm and pulled it down so she could snatch the wand out of his grip. Pocketing it, she smiled sweetly at him. "Now that you've had your fun, do you think we could get back to the lesson?"

Draco pretended not to hear her, and instead seemed intent on studying the titles on the nearest bookshelf.

Hermione's grip on his left arm remained. His sleeve had fallen down around his elbow, and a white bandage was visible, running the length of his forearm. She frowned at it.

"Malfoy, shouldn't this have healed by now? Here, let me put a charm on it, it'll be good as new." She moved to unfasten the bandage, but Draco suddenly seized her hand and yanked his arm out of reach.

"Don't," he said fiercely.

A little frightened by the look in his eyes, Hermione said in a small voice, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help you."

Draco exhaled slowly and let go of her hand. "It's not your fault. Just… forget it."

"But… what happened to it? If you were doing something illegal, I won't tell."

"I said forget it."

Hermione returned to her chair, and busied herself with finding the next assignment's corresponding page in the book. Draco slowly walked over and sat down opposite her.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the rustling of pages and the distant chatter of people in the hallway returning to their common rooms for the night.

"You'd hate me." His voice was tense and quiet.

"I thought I already hated you, Malfoy," she said absently as she squinted at a footnote.

"Even more. It's… unforgiveable. I'm unforgiveable."

Hermione could hear the self-loathing and pain in his voice. She closed the book and cautiously rested a hand on top of his. "I don't believe that."

His grey eyes met her brown eyes, and they looked at each other for a long while.

A mutual understanding- Hermione gently turned his hand over and began to unwrap the bandages, still not looking away from his dark eyes.

Only when the bandage lay in a pile on the table did she break eye contact. Her gaze slid down and came to rest on his forearm.

The Dark Mark stood out like a poisonous scar on his pale flesh.


	15. Many Truths and a Few Lies

_A/N: I know this is a pretty short chapter, but it just worked out that way. Another one should be up soon- I told myself I wasn't allowed to write anything else until I finished this one, haha._

_Also, I'm not sure if Draco was a Death Eater when Karkaroff was killed, but just for now, let's pretend he was. It's not really important to the story, I just wanted to add it in. Anyways, enjoy, and I lovelovelove reviews!_

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Chapter 15: Many Truths and a Few Lies

. . .

As soon as Hermione's eyes left his, Draco looked down at the table, hanging his head so that his hair fell over his eyes and he wouldn't have to see her expression.

He could feel her grip on his arm tremble, and then release. A loud bang echoed through the now-quiet library as her chair fell over.

Thinking that he didn't blame her for running away, Draco somberly stood up to leave.

Caught off guard, he stumbled as someone ran up to him from the side and threw her arms around him. Hermione's tear-streaked face was buried in his chest, and her hold was tight, as though she were trying to protect him.

Slowly, he raised his arms and returned the embrace.

. . .

Several minutes later, they had retreated to an alcove deeper in the library, so as not to be overheard. It was odd, downright unheard of for Draco to be opening up to someone like this, let alone Hermione. But she had discovered the secret that had been weighing him down like concrete shoes, and it was only fair that she got an adequate explanation. Strangely, it was comforting that someone else knew about it. Even though it meant she could betray him to Dumbledore, Potter, the Order of the Phoenix- anyone, at a moment's notice, he was glad that she knew.

"I thought it was cool, at first. Vol-" The name seemed to stick in his throat like a knife. "_He_ asked me if I wanted to be a Death Eater. I don't know if he would have killed me if I said no or not, but I wanted to be one. He put his wand to my arm, and it burned like hell. But I didn't mind. The first few weeks, I showed the mark off to people, made them do whatever I wanted out of fear of _him_. It was just a game to me. But then… he asked me to…"

Draco paused. What they had been planning was too terrible for him to admit. If he succeeded, it would have meant the death of Dumbledore, and probably many of the teachers and students. He was shocked that she was sitting next to him without cringing as it was, and he couldn't bring himself to relate the details.

"…to help him with something. A job. I was confident that I could do it at first, but now I don't think I can. And we all know how forgiving _he_ is," he finished wryly, a grim smile on his face.

Hermione had been biting her lip and pulling on a loose thread on her robes during his confessional monologue, but now that he was finished, she looked at him apprehensively.

"He wouldn't… he won't kill you, will he?"

Draco looked away.

"The Death Eaters have this thing called the "Order." When someone has failed, or betrays, or tries to escape, _he_ gives the Order. The marks burn jet black, like molten fire. I felt it when _he_ gave the Order for Karkaroff. Then it's pretty much the end. Whoever finishes off the traitor is rewarded, and then it's like they never even existed. No funeral, no mourning, no honorable death."

Draco said this more idly then he meant to- he had thought about this fate so many times that it was almost acceptable to him. But Hermione looked horrified, and Draco immediately regretted it.

"But Dumbledore will protect you! He would never let Voldemort into Hogwarts, so as long as you're here, you're safe." She tried to smile.

Draco was fairly certain that Dumbledore already knew what he had been up to, and how he had been trying to kill Dumbledore all year, and wasn't sure how the aged man would react if Voldemort demanded Draco's life. Not to mention Snape was here, inside Hogwarts, and probably wouldn't have a problem poisoning Draco at his leisure.

But this was not for anyone to know but Draco, so he gave her a crooked smile and said, "Of course. You're right, as usual."

The lamps in the library flickered- the sign that it was about to close for the night.

They walked out into the hallway, and across the castle to the grand staircase.

Hermione chuckled a little, and Draco looked sideways at her, surprised.

"What?"

"If Harry only knew… he's been going on and on about you being a Death Eater- practically drove Ron and me mad. Everyone's been telling him he's off his rocker."

Draco laughed a little too. "But you won't tell him, right?"

Hermione looked at him seriously. "I will never tell anyone. I promise." Then she added, "It's too fun to watch him go mad over it, anyway."

They reached the staircases, and Hermione made to go upstairs, but Draco grabbed her hand, stopping her.

"Thank-you."

Hermione smiled warmly at him, gave his hand a quick squeeze, and then they parted ways for the evening. Hermione made her way up to the seventh floor, and Draco ambled down to the dungeons. She pulled on pajamas and slipped under the covers, and he rolled into bed with his shoes still on. Both had trouble sleeping that night.

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_A/N: Quick but important opinion poll! Is this getting out of hand? I mean, this is chapter 15 right here, should I speed it up and get to the end already, or keep going? Please tell me what you think! Also, if there's something you'd like to see in this story, feel free to suggest. ^^_


	16. Of Hairpins and Hogsmeade

Chapter 16: Of Hairpins and Hogsmeade

_A/N: Why can't I write a title that isn't an alliteration? Whatever. I'm not even going to try to make excuses for my absence, although I am truly sorry about it. So please enjoy Chapter 16. :)_

_P.S. I've written some highly condensed chapter plot summaries, since you've probably forgotten! (Again, entirely my fault, sorry!)_

_Chapter 1: Hermione finds Draco crying in the bathroom (because he can't figure out how to fix the vanishing cabinet or kill Dumbledore and is afraid for his life)- Draco gets angry and scares her off._

_Chapter 2: Draco feels bad about hurting her, retells it from his perspective, and reflects on how he is ashamed of his fear._

_Chapter 3: Hermione keeps having nightmares about Draco, and goes outside to study in "her spot", but is interrupted by someone, and climbs a tree to avoid them._

_Chapter 4: Draco has a Quidditch practice, and we learn about Bella, his "pet" thestral. He decides to take a nap in "his spot"._

_Chapter 5: Draco finds a book in his spot, and realizes it's Hermione's. When he slams it shut, it scares Hermione, and she falls out of the tree, right on top of him._

_Chapter 6: Hermione hurt her ankle falling out of the tree, and, much to Hermione's embarrassment, Draco carries her to Hagrid's._

_Chapter 7: Hagrid is suspicious of Hermione's injury, but she assures him Draco was helping her. She returns to her room to find her book returned. Draco disappears for a few days, and looks terrible when he finally returns. Later, Hermione discovers Harry and Ron beating up Draco for what he did to her. She tries to stop them, but Harry uses Sectumsempra on Draco, and he collapses._

_Chapter 8: Hermione takes Harry's broom and (with difficulty) flies Draco to the hospital wing, where they crash through the window and Hermione is knocked unconscious._

_Chapter 9: She wakes up to find Harry and Ron asleep at her bedside and Draco, unconscious but alive. She sits there and holds his hand for a little, realizing that she might have feelings for him. It is hinted that Harry might have been awake the whole time._

_Chapter 10: Draco wakes up to a sharp pain in his arm, and panics when he sees a dark figure in the room. It turns out to be Snape, who tells him cryptically that "the Order" hasn't been given, but that his next mistake might be his last. He advises him to cover up his dark mark while he's at Hogwarts, as anyone who sees it will also have to die._

_Chapter 11: Draco has a nightmare in which Voldemort tortures him for his failure, and then forces his mother and father to use the cabinet, which is still broken and will kill them. He tries to save them, but the dark mark on his arm comes alive and spreads over his body, leaving him paralyzed. He wakes up in a cold sweat, relieved that it was a dream but reminding himself that it would happen if he doesn't succeed._

_Chapter 12: While still recovering in the hospital wing, Draco overhears that a thestral has been hurt, and, terrified that it was Bella, drags himself down to Hagrid's to see. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid are having tea when they notice someone in the garden. Hagrid goes to check, and when Hermione follows him, they find Draco lying next to Bella in a pool of blood._

_Chapter 13: Hermione uses charms to heal Draco, who then tells her about his relationship with Bella. Hermione tells him he can talk to her, and Draco admits he doesn't "hate her quite as much as he used to." Draco infers that Hermione is still mad at Harry for hurting him, and the thought pleases him. They walk back to the castle together, and Hermione returns him to the hospital wing._

_Chapter 14: Draco returns to classes, but finds himself utterly lost in Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall suggests that Hermione tutor him. Harry and Ron don't like this idea, but she agrees to meet him in the library for a study session. Draco isn't really taking it seriously, and after acting ridiculous and getting Hermione in trouble with Madame Pince, steals her wand. When she tries to get it back, she notices his bandage, and asks him what's wrong with his arm. He snaps at her, but then agrees to let her see. The chapter ends with the dark mark being revealed._

_Chapter 15: Draco thinks Hermione has run away, but she suddenly hugs him instead. He tells her how he became a death eater, and how Voldemort gave him a job to do. (Although he doesn't tell her what it was.) He also tells her about "the Order"- when a death eater has failed, the Order is given, and they are brutally killed by their fellow death eaters. Hermione assures him that Dumbledore will help him, and they part ways for the night._

_(Note to future self, if you don't want to write 15 chapter summaries, actually finish the fics you start before writing new ones…)_

_All caught up? Awesome! Chapter 16, I choose you! Go!_

. . .

Of Hairpins and Hogsmeade

. . .

It was nearly a week later, and Professor McGonagall had just finished teaching them how to turn a toothpick into a hairpin. Draco was extremely proud – his toothpick had become a shining silver pin, with ornately detailed leaves, and a small, pink, pearl rose on the one end. McGonagall herself had nodded approvingly as she walked past his desk.

And on top of that, the quiz Draco dropped smugly on Hermione's desk had a large 100% scrawled across it. Draco and Hermione had had several more tutoring sessions, and Draco had been studying in his free time. He didn't want her to think he was stupid, after all, because he wasn't. Probably.

Hermione picked the parchment up and examined it (Draco hoped to read his answers and not to check for forgeries), then smiled broadly at him. "Well done!"

Draco waved away her compliment. "It's nothing. Alright Granger, let's see your hairpin."

Hermione placed it on the desk; hers was also silver, but sleeker, and studded with three small, perfectly round emeralds.

Draco thought his was better, which he said, and then held it out for her to see.

"Oh, that's beautiful Draco, you're really improving."

"Here," he said, and she turned scarlet as he leaned over the desk and gently pinned it just behind her right ear.

He hurriedly stood back up, a slight pink coloring his cheeks.

"Thank-you," she murmured, brushing her fingertips over the pin.

"Well- what else am I going to do with it? Anyway, there's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend, and I-" (He swallowed dryly.) "I want you to go with me. I- well, Crabbe and Goyle have detention, blew up a lavatory or something, and I need to do some Christmas shopping, and I don't fancy going alone-"

"Well, Harry and Ron have Quidditch practice most of the weekend, since there's a match against Hufflepuff next week, so I don't suppose I have anything else to do- alright."

Draco looked as though that wasn't the answer he was expecting, then said shortly, "Fine then. See you on Saturday."

. . .

Saturday morning was the first day of December, and Draco woke to an unusual brightness. One slipper on (the other had misplaced itself), he stumbled over to the window to see a fine layer of snow frosting the castle grounds. More continued to drift down from the sky in large, lazy flakes.

Draco grinned. What a perfect day. He loved the snow. So clean, and white, and fresh- and perfect for throwing at people.

He abruptly stopped grinning to himself when he realized Blaise Zabini was still in the room, and looking at him curiously. Draco slapped a scowl on his face and began rummaging through his trunk, looking for something to wear.

Finding nothing, he called over his shoulder, "Blaise, you're a well-dressed man, I assume you're rather fashion-savvy… what do you wear to something that's… not really a date, but sort of… is? Or perhaps you wish it were, but you're not sure she does. Or maybe it is and it's you that doesn't know it."

Draco frowned to himself, reconsidering that sentence, and then realized that Blaise had been talking.

"…robes are not really appropriate in that situation. Perhaps a nice sweater vest or a button-down shirt. For you, I would stay away from the sweater vest, you'd look like a prat. Maybe a button-down in… powder blue with black slacks and a black undershirt; no tie, leave the top two buttons undone."

A little worried about just how easily Blaise came up with an outfit for him, Draco dug out a white shirt and charmed it an icy blue. He dressed, and then looked critically at himself in the full mirror hanging on the door. He was so accustomed to wearing just black that it took a few seconds to get used to seeing himself in color. It did make him look less pale, and he noted that it also brought out the hint of blue in his grey eyes. Draco looked himself over one more time, then nodded approvingly. Blaise certainly had a knack for clothes, anyway.

"Who are you going with, anyway?" Blaise asked through a stream of swears as Draco looked for his other dress shoe.

"Er… it's no one that you know. She doesn't go to Hogwarts."

Blaise looked at him skeptically, but decided that Draco wasn't going to tell him, and let it go.

"Alright well… how do I look?"

"Do you really need to wear your hair like that? It makes you look like… I don't even know what, but do you have stock in hair gel companies or something?"

Draco chose to ignore that, grabbed his wallet and watch off the table, and left.

. . .

Draco stepped outside of the castle, and immediately regretted not wearing a coat. He thought about running back down to the dungeons, but the sight of Hermione stopped him. She was waiting by the gate, wearing a brown wool coat and green, hand-knitted gloves with a matching scarf. Draco also noted that she was wearing his hairpin again. She was breathtaking. Or maybe it was the freezing air. Whatever.

Draco jogged over to where she was standing, and skidded to a halt on the slightly icy ground.

"Oh, Draco, where is your coat? You'll catch your death out here!"

Draco waved his hand dismissively and said, "I don't get cold. I'm so hot it simply doesn't affect me."

He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, grabbed his elbow, and pulled him towards the gates leading to Hogsmeade.

. . .

By the time they had gotten down into town, Draco was freezing. He was trying valiantly to stop his teeth from chattering, but it really was too cold for what he was wearing.

"So where do you want to go first?" Hermione asked, looking sideways at him.

"I- I- A- A- ACHOO!" Draco sneezed so violently that he nearly fell over, and had to grab Hermione's shoulder for support.

"S-sorry," Draco chattered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Hermione pulled off her scarf and flung it over Draco's head. He tried to protest, but she gave him a look, and he held still while she tied it securely around his neck. Thankfully his cheeks were already red from the cold, because he felt his face heat up significantly as he caught a whiff of her perfume.

Hermione drew back, also looking a little more flushed, and said, "There. It's not a coat, but I suppose it will help… Still, we'd better go inside. Scrivenshaft's is closest, why don't we go in? I'm sure your father could use a new quill…"

"So long as it's warm, sure."

It was not "warm" per say, but it was warmer. Draco milled around the shelves until he found a nice looking raven-feathered one with a sapphire studded base, decided his father probably didn't have a quill preference anyway, and paid eight galleons and three knuts for it.

Next, they ventured into Gladrag's Wizardwear, and Draco found a nice emerald necklace for his mother. However, Draco had a sneezing fit when they stepped out of Honeydukes, (where Hermione had bought a large bag of assorted sweets for Harry and Ron) and Hermione insisted that they go have a nice hot drink.

"Why don't we go down to Madam Puddifoot's?"

Draco's pained expression prompted an, "Oh, no, we don't have to go in there. I just thought it would be empty, since it's, well, so horrid. There's the Hog's Head, then?"

"Why don't we just go to the Three Broomsticks? I could use a butterbeer." Draco sneezed again. "Or a firewhiskey."

"I- I just thought you wouldn't want to be seen, you know, together." Hermione shuffled her boots in the slushy snow at their feet.

Draco hadn't really thought about this potential problem, and took a split second to mull it over. Contrary to every other year at Hogwarts, his own popularity was basically last on his extensive list of "Things to Worry About." (First was being murdered by his psychopath boss, second was failing school and having to live with his parents forever, and third was... well, you know, girls. Girl. Quite often and illogically, this item slipped its way to the top of the list, somehow.)

"So you're embarrassed to be seen with me, is that it? Granger, I know you're practically perfect, but am I really that bad? I think I'm rather charming." He had meant it as a joke, but as soon as he stopped talking, he realized what he had said. Hermione, too, had heard it, and both of them disregarded the rest and fixated on the fact that he had just called Hermione "perfect."

Feeling hot pinpricks on the back of his neck, and not knowing what else to do, Draco cautiously grazed his hand over Hermione's cheek, their eyes meeting with shock and disbelief and excitement, his hand cupping her face, leaning in slowly, their noses brushing, their lips just about to touch, and then- ACHOO. Draco sneezed violently on her coat.

Now, Draco had always considered himself to be rather smooth with the ladies, but this – talk about awkward. Draco let his forehead rest disconsolately on her shoulder for a few seconds before he straightened up, grabbed her hand and started walking quickly towards the pub, pulling her behind him.

Draco paused on the doorstep, a sudden fear of what kind of smack-talk he was going to have to endure for the rest of his time at Hogwarts washing over him. But that was stupid. This was what he, Draco, wanted, more than anything else, and he would be a coward if he let it get to him. Well, more of a coward, anyway.

Taking a deep breath, and muttering "Screw it," under his breath, he gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze and threw open the door, which thudded loudly against the wall.

Every single person stopped talking and turned to stare as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger walked hand-in-hand into The Three Broomsticks.


End file.
